Our Extraction Plan
by MysteryGal5
Summary: "What would I ever do without you?" "Probably die." / Clint and Natasha don't have an extraction team simply because they don't need one. With that in mind, what's their plan when they do need a way out? (Clint x Natasha Novella)
1. Cause

**This story was literally planned in late 2016 but because its plot has constantly been changing, I finally solidified a plot after watching that episode of _Agents of SHIELD_ where Hunter broke Fitz out of that government holding facility.**

 ** _Just a side note_ \- I don't own these characters and this novella is basically a parody of missions. Do not read this if you wanted something legit.**

* * *

Chapter One: Cause

 _"Barton, Romanoff, they never have an extraction plan!"_

 _"They know that going in!"_

-o-

Ninety days ago, Agents Barton and Romanoff were assigned on a mission to infiltrate a secret organization that a SHIELD source said was possibly affiliated with HYDRA.

Eighty-six days ago, the two of them suited up.

Eighty-four days ago, they initiated their plan to go undercover as agents of the unknown organization to get an indepth look at what was really happening behind those closed doors..

Seventy-two days ago, they got compromised. In response to the sudden coup aimed at them, Clint and Natasha fought back, obviously. The fight was simple, almost like another one of their training sessions except set on the easy mode. At one point, a bullet grazed Clint's torso and he fell over. Natasha turned around and in the spur of the moment, she ran the other way. Clint looked up as Natasha became smaller in his vision and eventually disappeared with other agents following her. He was alone on the ground with a bleeding flesh wound and guns pointed right at him. He looked through his peripheral vision to see his bow and arrows too far for his grasp. He surrendered.

Seventy-one days ago, Clint was locked in a solitary cell. He was interrogated every day from that point forward - not only on his intentions or the mission he was assigned to but about the location of Natasha Romanoff.

-o-

Clint is shoved into the interrogation room with his hands cuffed behind his back and attached to his bound ankles. With small dragging motions of his feet, he shuffles his way over to the same dingy metal chair he's been sitting at for the past seventy-one days. This time, he didn't have to be forced to sit since he willingly cooperated. Clint lifts his head and is faced with the same room set-up as per usual: two interrogating agents, one male, and the other female; the female stands behind his seat and the male in front. The metal table in front of him is empty, probably there for decoration. Two agents with guns stand in the doorway, ready and desiring to blow his head off.

"It's been seventy-one days, Agent Barton," the male agent says to him.

"It has?!" Clint exclaims sarcastically. He smirks as his back slaps against his chair. "Wow...time really flies when you're doing nothing."

The male agent rolls his eyes, not wanting to go through this bullshit for the seventy-first day in a row. "Have you been in secret contact with your partner while locked up in your cell?"

"No, have you? She's been ignoring the calls I haven't been making. And even if we were somehow communication through the walls, why the hell would I tell you?"

A second eye roll. "If you make any more jokes, we will kill you."

"I love your good ol' fashioned empty threats. Do you really think you will kill me?"

A third eye roll. "Oh, don't worry. You'll die another way."

Clint swallows his next set of joked as the guards cock their guns. They weren't going to shoot him, were they? His jokes weren't actually that bad, were they?

"Get up," the female agent orders, nudging the back of his chair with her knee.

Clint stands up and shuffles to the side. He waits for the female agent to escort him out from behind but she just stands there. Clint hesitates on whether or not he should say something but chooses not to when he realizes that she's smirking like a psychopath with a plan.

"That's the first time I've seen your pearly whites," Clint comments, "but please stop because I am getting creeped out. Can I go back to my cell now?"

Clint never thought he would ask that. Maybe being locked up here with no access to the sun was finally making him go crazy? He also never thought he would see the guards pointing their guns at their own agent. The female puts her hands up and behind their head with that smirk still resting on her face.

"You're not Agent Mattingly..." the male agent mutters as he points his own revolver at her. "How long have you been here?"

That smirk lifts a little more in one corner. "Seventy-one days..."

In the blink of an eye, chaos breaks loose in the interrogation room. The female agent kicks the metal chair that Clint was sitting in earlier forwards. It collides with the male agent's face. As bullets start being fired non-stop, both Clint and the female agent duck. Clint quickly turns around and hurls the table at the guards to distract them. With the spare seconds, the female rips off her wig and whips it at one of the guards. It latches onto his face and administers a strong electrical shock which sends him to the ground. Clint looks over at her and she pulls out two knives from her hair and throws them at the second guard, stabbing him as her red curls fall down to her shoulders.

Clint sees her face start to pixelate. She pinches at the corners of her face to remove the mask. Once Natasha is revealed, Clint shuffles over to one of the unconscious guards to snag their guns and shoot the locks of his restraints. One of the guards starts waking up and Clint steps down on his neck.

"You will do as I say or I will kill you slowly and painfully..." Clint tells him. "And please, don't even try to fight back because my colleague over there has barely broken a sweat. You will never get away from us."

Alarms start blaring. Clint kicks him back to an unconscious state as Natasha starts cursing under her breath in Russian. She and Clint run out the door as she takes out her guns. The two of them start running down the empty hallways that will soon be filled with bloodthirsty agents with the goal to hunt them down. Natasha unclips Clint's bow and filled quiver from her back and hands it to him. How was she able to hide it there? Clint will never know or ask.

"Next time, you're being held hostage," Clint tells her. "It won't take me seventy-one days to extract some information."

"It took me a week to get every single detail, actually," Natasha replies casually.

"So, if it took you seven days to get all that we needed and more, why was I locked up for an additional sixty-four days?!"

Natasha looks at her phone. "It's classified."

Clint almost stops running. " _Classified_?! We have the same clearance level!"

Natasha shrugs. Clint decides that it would be best to stop asking questions and just follow Natasha since she has a plan for getting them both out of here. Maybe that was the reason for the additional seventy-one days?

"Did you call my guy?" Clint asks.

"I did," Natasha replies as they turn a corner. "He was as sketchy as hell but I still sent him the money you provided. Our car should be parked at the campsite just on the other side of the forest."

"And how are we getting there?"

"We need to get to the north-east sector of the building where we will dive into the ventilation - "

"Too many steps."

He and Natasha stop running. She places her hands on her hips and furrows her brows as Clint fiddles with the beloved bow he missed while imprisoned and wearing a stupid yet snarky grin on his face.

"Do you have a better idea?" Natasha asks him.

"Always," Clint responds. "Face it, they already know we're here and we have to go out with a bang."

Clint mimics an explosion with his hands for dramatic support for his point. Natasha thinks about how she should've just left him in his cell since he already seemed to be losing his mind from the solitary confinement.

"So?" Natasha questions.

Clint points to the wall at the end of the hallway. Natasha looks over at the wall and then back at Clint, unsure of what he's trying to say. Clint loads his bow and fires. The arrow lands on the wall, its head ticking down before blowing a hole in the wall. Once the debris has settled, they both face the sun and run towards it.

"Wow..." Clint pants. "I haven't had vitamin D in so long!"

"There's still time for me to make you see stars while I make a run for it," Natasha replies.

Clint keeps his next sarcastic comment to himself as he and Natasha plow through the guards who were scouted along the perimeter. Bullets skim their bodies as they make their way into the forest. From this point forward, they just have to get to their ride before the oncoming gunfire comes up.

* * *

 **Just warning you in advance, this story will only be three chapters long. I hope you like it so far.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- Clint and Natasha will face many obstacles as they continue to make their escape.**


	2. Course

**Truth be told, I was publishing and writing other stories and I legitimately forgot I had this one up.**

* * *

Chapter Two: Course

After running in a zig-zag pattern through a crowded forest, Clint and Natasha finally lose all the troops that were chasing them. Just like promised, their car was parked at a campsite. From a distance, it looked like a good getaway car with strong horsepower and mileage but up close, it was not much. It was a slightly beat-up sedan with scratches and dents all over the paint and a missing rear-view window. Clint could feel Natasha's disapproval and disgust without needing to look at her.

"This is the best getaway car money can buy," Clint says.

"The only way this is a getaway car is that I want to get away from it," Natasha responds.

Natasha passes him the key. Clint goes up to open the door and the handle breaks off. He looks up at Natasha and sees her crossing her arms and lifting an eyebrow, not amused or surprised by tnr bad quality of the car that he promised would be provided.

"Well..." Clint mutters. "It's the best getaway car _my_ money can buy," Clint defends.

Natasha believes him and steps into the car without saying a word. From the passenger's seat, Natasha stretches over to open Clint's door for him with her natural pissed-off poker face.

"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed," Clint says, getting in the car.

"Yeah, you did," Natasha replies.

Clint starts the engine which surprisingly works better than they thought it would and starts driving. Their current destination was to get to the center of downtown and from there, if they don't get shot to death along the way, they'll figure it out like they always do. As of right now, the two of them sit in a silent car ride with no interest of turning on the radio.

"We have to get a quinjet if we want to get back to SHIELD," Natasha says.

"Impossible," Clint replies. "We'll only get followed."

"The point of an extraction plan is to _extract_ ourselves from the mission."

"That's not an extraction plan, that's an extraction wish list."

Before Natasha could get another word out, gunshots blast in the distance and the back window of their sedan shatters. Natasha turns around and sees that they're being followed. In response, Clint floors the gas, speeding up as they enter the highway that was shockingly - and yet totally expectedly - empty.

Natasha shatters her passenger window with her elbow. She stretches her upper body out the window. Her red curls blow behind her at top speed as she holds up her guns and fires non-stop. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, Clint reaches into his quiver with his free hand and pulls out an explosive arrow. He bites off the arrowhead and sees the red light on it flashing. Clint opens the window and throws it behind him as Natasha gets back in the car. She reloads her guns to the sound of explosions.

"What's next on your extraction wish list?" Clint asks Natasha.

"Ditch this heap of junk and get a better ride," she replies.

"Better?"

"Yes. My wish is my command."

"Of course, it is. As if we were actually going to stay in this car, I wouldn't waste a good wish."

Natasha grins.

Clint uses another arrow to wedge the gas pedal down. He and Natasha open their car doors and leap right out. The two of them run to the end of the freeway's bridge and leap right over. While mid-air, Clint shoots another explosive arrow at their car to blow it up. Then, as he fires a grappling hook at the bridge. Natasha does the same but with her belt buckle. Both of them cross one another before unhooking themselves and landing on their feet.

-o-

The two of them run through an underground parking garage. They approach a brand new SHIELD certified camoflage car with relfective panels on the outer coating that the labs just released. It can take the appearance of any car. Natasha makes it resemble a convertible so it would blend in with the rest of the city. Clint pops open the trunk and pulls out a duffel bag. He opens it and sees ammunition, some extra casual clothes, and other typical getaway items. Natasha pins up her hair and wraps a floral scarf over her head. She puts on a cotton candy-colored cardigan over her spy uniform and cat-eye sunglasses. Clint throws a generic gray hoodie over himself and puts on a pair of dark shades. This was all to draw away any possible suspicion.

"Hey, Nat," Clint calls, "which license plate should we use?"

"Whichever one you wish to use," Natasha responds. She has no preference or care in the world for what letters and numbers will be hanging in the back of the car.

Clint smirks. "Good because my wish is my command."

-o-

This time, Clint and Natasha resemble two normal civilians as they drive through the city streets. Right now, Natasha is the driver and Clint fiddles with the radio to find a station that wasn't playing mellow jazz...which he never finds. To think that a vehicle that could look like whatever car it could has only one type of music genre. He sticks with a bop he wouldn't find himself bopping to.

"This song is awful," Natasha says.

Clint raises the volume until the music feels like it's bouncing from each end of the car. Natasha tries to ignore that by keeping her focus on the road but she couldn't take it, that bop made her want to kick Clint out of the car and tell him to go bop himself - but she held back, gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles turn white.

"Let loose, Nat," Clint encourages. "We completed a mission and have nobody following us."

He spoke too soon. The sound of police sirens gets louder and closer to them. The only benefit to this was that it drowned out the annoying bop from earlier. For a moment, Clint and Natasha think that maybe the police were going after someone else but that was only wishful thinking.

Natasha pulls over to the side of the road. She sees the police car pull over behind her. She sees the policeman exit the car from her rearview mirror, she rolls her eyes and softly curses to herself in London. Clint quickly hides all their weapons in the glove compartment, lucky that everything somehow fit in there. The two of them sit up straight, looking at each other with side glances, acting completely calm, cool, and collected.

"Remember," Natasha says, her lips barely moving. "You're deaf and I don't speak English."

Clint nods without looking at her. A policeman approaches the car. Natasha looks up at him as she opens her window.

"License and registration," he orders.

Natasha blinks, not doing anything.

"Ma'am," the cop prompts, "license and registration, please."

Another blink followed by no response.

"Do you speak English?"

Natasha wavers her hand, saying that she kind of not-so really does. The cop slowly nods.

"Okay..." The cop mutters. "Are you aware that you ran a red light at that last intersection?"

The corner of Natasha's lip slightly twitches. She was not aware of that but it was probably because of that stupid bop that Clint put on the radio. Clint, on-the-other-hand, wants to just burst out laughing at the fact that _The Black Widow_ , who survived a mobile shootout a while back just ran a red light. What a mission this was turning out to be for the memories, that's for sure.

Still, Natasha doesn't respond verbally to the cop.

"Ma'am," the cop tirelessly says, lines appearing on his forehead. "Is this your car?"

"Da!" Natasha exclaims in an overly-exaggerated Russian accent. "This is _a_ car."

"No, is this _your_ car?"

"Da! This is _a_ car!"

The cop groans frustratedly. Natasha sits back in her seat, purposely remaining neutral to this situation. The cop notices Clint who seems to be oblivious to all of this as he absentmindedly looks out at the city through his window.

"Sir," the cop calls.

Clint doesn't respond, even after the cop calls several times after and waves his hands in the air to get his attention. He looks at the cop after a few minutes.

"Sorry!" Clint screams way too loud. "Can't hear you, I'm blind!"

The cop is taken aback for a second, unsure of whether or not he heard that statement correctly because it made absolutely no sense. Eventually, the cop gives up and just allows them to go free.

"Ciao!" Natasha exclaims, blowing him a kiss as she slams her foot on the gas.

Once they're far enough from where the cop pulled them over, Clint bursts out laughing from what just happened. As he grips his cramping sides to hold them from all the laughing, Natasha starts laughing as well. It all ends when Clint turns on the radio and that annoying bop from earlier is still on for some reason.

"Niet!" Natasha exclaims as she slams the radio off.

They have no choice now but to ride back to SHIELD in complete silence .

* * *

 **Thank you for all the readers so far. I was not expecting the reaction this story got so far so yay! There will be one final chapter.**

 ** _Stay Tuned_ \- How will SHIELD react to their extraction plan?**


	3. Consequence

**Just so I have it out there even though I doubt anyone cares, the three chapter names of this novella are actually what I've been taught as the stages of warfare which I thought would be fitting.**

 **This final chapter is short because making it any longer would just be dragging it on.**

* * *

Chapter Three: Consequence

The worst part of any mission was the debriefing. Most agents, including Clint and Natasha, would rather have a life-threatening bullet stuck in one of their vital organs rather than face a strenuous and basically useless question session with the Council. The former situation has a higher survival rate and is more relaxing anyways. The Council usually just scolds them and asks questions they already know the answer time which is such a waste of time, in anyone's opinion.

 _Council: Agent Romanoff, Agent Barton, your actions in the mission - though successful - were extremely irresponsible._

Clint and Natasha stand in front of the panel of Councilmen and Councilwomen. Right now, the two of them feel like children being scolded by a line-up of angered parents for doing something stupid like leaving a fork in the sink or punching another kid at the park. All they want is to be sent to their rooms so they could leave this situation.

"If I may," Natasha says firmly and politely, "ladies and gentlemen of the Council, Agent Barton and I don't have an extraction plan but an unorthodox escape plan instead. We don't follow the rules because we make them for ourselves. And when the time comes, we break them and survive."

The Council is silent.

"Our version of an extraction plan is unexplainable," Clint adds. "They're a ridiculous sequence of events that lead to us almost dying and an even more ridiculous sequence that lead to us surviving. Sure, things never go exactly as planned but we're not dead this time so it's a win."

The Council is not amused by the responses as they were and don't even have to conference with one another to discuss their next move. Some people just didn't appreciate serious jokes.

 _Council: You are both dismissed._

-o-

"I'd say that was a success!" Clint chants, closing his locker door.

He looks up at Natasha who's now changed into her civvies and has a leg propped up on the bench to lace up her combat boot. She glanced up at him and smirks. They prepared those answers on the way to SHIELD and memorized them like an actor to its script. Once you've been in one debriefing, you've been to all of them and can basically predict what they would ask.

"Drinks on me," Natasha says. "We definitely need them."

"Ah..." Clint mutters nostalgically. "Just like Budapest all over again."

Natasha eyes him strangely. "You and I remember Budapest very differently."

Clint grins. "What would I ever do without you?"

"Probably die."

She was serious...and he didn't argue.

* * *

 **Thank you so much to everyone who has read and enjoyed this. I had loads of fun writing all the wit and comebacks, and just Clint and Natasha in general. Please feel free to check out any of my other stories and even leave me an idea.**

 **~ MysteryGal5**


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